Forever Winged
by MindTemple
Summary: Madison, a six-year-old girl, has moved to a town next to Haddonfield. What happens when she finds a masked killer, doesn't know it's HIM, and takes him into her home? How can the letters Loomis has been getting stop one of the biggest slaughters in town?
1. Gibberish Letters of Warning

_**Forever Winged**_

_Smiley1Face23_

_**A Halloween Fanfiction**_

_Hello people! You may have read my Edward Scissorhands or Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction. I'm glad! Now, I am starting a new venturing into a new unknown... the world known as __Halloween!__ This classic Halloween horror story was directed by John Carpenter and tells the chilling story of a psychotic serial killer, Michael Myers. I'm sure, because you are looking at the fanfiction for it, that you know the basic story line._

_**Basic Stats For This Fanfiction:**_

_**Main Characters (Will be explained in detail in story)**_

Michael Myers, Sam Loomis, Madison Fitzgerald, Madison's Parents, Madison's Siblings, and the Police

_**Setting:**_

*Fifteen years later after Halloween One

*Loomis's Office

*A small town near Haddonfield

*Haddonfield, Illinois

*Madison's House

*Week of Halloween!

_Please comment! I won't beg for reviews, but it is wonderful to hear what you guys think!_

_

* * *

  
_

Doctor Samuel Loomis paced in his office. He gripped the last of his hair, most of it gone from his receding hairline. The mysterious phone calls... the anonymous letters... what could they all mean? All he knew was that they were related to Michael Myers. His long-lost patient that escaped all but fifteen years ago from Smith's Grove, his penitentiary, for killing his teenage sister.

The letters were hand-written. It was almost illegible, for it was so messy. The phone calls were made from a phone booth, in an unknown location. "What could all of this mean?" Loomis thought to himself behind a locked door in his office, "who is doing this?"

He slammed the manila-folder file down on his metallic desk. It BOOMED, then all was silent once again. What it contained were the many letters that had arrived on Monday for the last five weeks. Loomis leaned on his desk, aggravated and agitated, and pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyes, once closed, reopened and gazed down at one of the papers. Three-fourths of one paper was peeking out from under the vanilla-hued folder. Black ink and all.

Loomis slid the paper out from under the folder and tousled it gently in his hand. He began to read it the last time for that night, pondering what the words could possibly mean:

_Loomis,_

_ Don't remember, always forget. What happened? The dog sleeps at midnight o' one... he is alone at the house. Mask and all. I'll make sure he stays there. Don't procrastinate... time is of the essence. I've been thrown into the line of fire... and you, Loomis, are the gunman. I will run. Don't let me get away. The dog will attack, and you can shoot him down. I'll lead him to the house, but not the house you are thinking of. My house. The house out of fifty two million in Illinois in which he is in. He's waiting, so am I. The ball bounces at five P.M. And don't miss it. It's a special date. You'll have to find the date. But you already know it. Time is limited before this date, then the dog will come out and chase the ball that has been bounced.. Let your nails scratch against the chalk-board... it is time to party._

_ I will be waiting._

Loomis grimaced. Three degrees in psychology... and, he thought angrily, I cannot even translate a mystery message. His lip curled and his eyes rolled as he shoved the paper back into the folder.

He threw himself into his chair behind the desk, and slouched. He sighed, enraged.

"I need a scotch..." he mumbled to himself, grabbed a pen from his pencil cup, and grabbed his weekly planner from the left corner of his roughly-organized desk.

He opened to the current date. October 29th, 1978. The Wednesday before the 31st, Halloween, on Friday. He 'Xed' off another square, filled with little notes for the day such as: 'Meeting at 12:00' or 'Lunch with Dr. Rankie'. The pen was red ink and stood out against the dull greens and blues of the planner's 29th square.

He closed the book, remembering the letter. "Time is limited before this date, then the dog will come out and chase the ball that has been bounced."

Loomis was assured that the date was Halloween.

There would be some sort of meeting or gathering (possible fight?) at five o' clock.

The dog would be Michael. Why was he referred to as a dog?

But what was the ball that was bounced? Why would Michael chase it?

What about all the other gibberish?

Plus, who would write such craziness?

* * *

Downtown Haddonfield:

Approximately seven-thousand miles North away from the heart of Downtown Chicago.

Approximately fifty miles South near Trendont. A small village located next to Haddonfield that was once famous for it's wonderful scenery and cheery atmosphere. This all still remains today, but secured only for the residents of Trendont. It was shunned from the newspaper, covered by the scandal in Haddonfield. The little baby boy in 1963 who had murdered his big sister. Although Trendont had absolutely nothing to do with the incident, people seemed to think that because they were close to the town where evil lived, they were bad too.

Residents of Trendont moved away, one-by-one, in fear that the psychotic killer Michael Myers would come after them.

But, also one-by-one, new people moved in. Whether they knew what went on in the neighboring town was unknown, but once they paid for the house, it was all said and done. They were there, in the eccentric, bright, safe neighborhood, until disaster decided to strike.

When it did strike, it was like Zeus' Lightning Bolt.

* * *

Madison Fitzgerald fiddled with her doll. It was a Mary-Jane doll, the new hottest toy. She had gotten in for her birthday, a few days ago, on the 19th of October. Madison loved her birthday, because it was close to Halloween. She got presents, and candy!

She had inquired to her mother what Halloween celebrated. Many times, actually. Her sister and her daddy and her brother too.

But no one spoke a word. They all just looked down at her tiny newly-six-year-old body and smiled a grim smile. Her mother willed her to leave the room, her father had bit his lip and walked away, her brother had shrugged and ignored her, and her sister was also too young to understand, so she said "I don't really know. Mommy and Daddy don't like to talk about it."

Madison learned to talk about certain things with her parents, and all others to her sister. There were certain subjects that pressed buttons inside their parent's mind, and get them a bit agitated. She could go to her brother Frankie for some things, but he was sixteen. He shrugged everything off... for his sisters were much younger. Madison was, as already stated, six, and her sister, Julian, was seven. He was obviously too cool for those little brats.

They conjured up theories as to what Halloween was all about and wrote them all down. Maybe they could be put in a book somewhere, the two girls figured.

"We could be famous for discovering the meaning of Halloween!" Julian had exclaimed once. It made them both giggle, for the thought of being famous seemed so out of reach. All dreams did, when you were six.

The house itself was pretty small. A tight fit, even though everyone, not including mommy and daddy, got their own room. It was two stories; all the bedrooms on top. It looked typical with all the other homes in the neighborhood around it. Grey siding, black roof, porch in the front, and the landscaping was colorful and rich. There was a garage attached to the house, and the door from the inside of the garage led to the kitchen/laundry room. It was a beautiful house, Madison's mother and father agreed. It certainly was splendid, compared to the small apartment they used to have.

Madison saw it as a magical castle. There were tall towers and the entire house was laid with medieval bricks. The Gods and Goddesses of Kingdom Puppies protected the castle, where Madison was the princess. She rode on a white unicorn every night, when she really lay in her bed. The ceiling peeled away to reveal a bright blue sky and rainbows, when Madison's eyes were really closed.

To Julian, it was a science lab with everything she could ever need to explore the universe.. Julian had heard that the house came with books, and was instantly elated at the news. She loved to read and loved to learn. For her birthday in March, she wanted the Escon 3.200 High-Powered Telescope. When she grew up, she wanted to be a scientist. Most girls her age didn't even know how to read adequately. Julian was sometimes amazed at how idiotic her peers could be.

In Frankie's eyes, it was only a house. He had been around longer than his sisters, and had been around for plenty of moves. It was another average move. They would be going to another place in the middle of nowhere in a few weeks. "Just wait," he thought, " nothing great will come of this stupid house." But, secretly, he loved the fact he had is own room.

The parents, Susan and Johnny Fitzgerald, saw this place as a new opportunity. A chance to start over. The family could leave behind all sorrow they had endured previously. No debt, they paid it all off. No obnoxious neighbors, they hoped. Nothing that had tainted their lives before.

There was also one more unexpected guest, and he was certainly unwelcome. He had never seen the house before... so it was all new to him. Then again, he had never been shown compassion before, too. No one gave him a hug or a smile.

But that was his fault.

* * *

_ So what did you people think? This is my first Halloween fanfiction, so I need to get to know the ropes a little bit. I hope you all liked the first chapter! Believe me, it gets more eventful in the second chapter and so-on. I just needed to introduce the characters, setting, etc. _

_ Did I add suspense? _

_~Smiley1Face23_


	2. Myers Story and Calls of Interpretation

_**Forever Winged**_

_Smiley1Face23_

_**A Halloween Fanfiction**_

_**Chapter 2**_

_Hello people! You may have read my Edward Scissorhands or Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction. I'm glad! Now, I am starting a new venturing into a new unknown... the world known as __Halloween!__ This classic Halloween horror story was directed by John Carpenter and tells the chilling story of a psychotic serial killer, Michael Myers. I'm sure, because you are looking at the fanfiction for it, that you know the basic story line._

_**Basic Stats For This Fanfiction:**_

_**Main Characters (Will be explained in detail in story)**_

Michael Myers, Sam Loomis, Madison Fitzgerald, Madison's Parents, Madison's Siblings, and the Police

_**Setting:**_

*Fifteen years later after Halloween One

*Loomis's Office

*A small town near Haddonfield

*Haddonfield, Illinois

*Madison's House

*Week of Halloween!

_Please comment! I won't beg for reviews, but it is wonderful to hear what you guys think!_

"Madison! Get your backpack ready for school!" her mother screamed from the kitchen to her procrastinating daughter.

The young girl sat on her vanity. Her sister stood behind her and racked a hairbrush through Madison's blonde, short hair. Her sister was an early riser compared to Madison,and was all ready for school.

The vanity was pink, along with everything else in the room. Pink and yellow were Madison's favorite colors, and were the ones that donned the room. The walls were wallpapered and everything. Madison had spent a lot of her spare time in her room. It was hers, and she had personalized it to let people know that this was her zone. There were so many hidden nooks and crannies, for it was an old house, that Madison loved to explore. There was a wooden ledge by the window, and only a day ago Madison discovered that it was hollow. A small door on the side allowed her to crawl in and hide out. When she had invited her friends over, no one had found her when they played hide-and-seek. Why? No one cared to look inside the little door, on the ledge by the window.

Julian smiled when she had completed her sister's hair. Decorated with striped bows and braids, Madison was sure she would look her best. Compared with her striped pink and purple dress, white tights, and black Mary-Janes, the hair matched perfectly. Everyone would be jealous.

"Thanks Jewels..." 'Jewels' was Madison's nickname for Julian, "my hair looks great!"

Julian smiled and helped her younger sister down from the yellow bench of the vanity. "You're welcome."

The girls rushed down the carpeted stairs to the foyer. This was where the front door was located, and it went outside to the porch of the front yard. To the left was a sitting room, and to the right, the kitchen and the bathroom.

Madison's shoes clicked at a rapid 'tick-tick-tick' against the wooden floor leading to the kitchen.

"Good morning, mommy" Madison pulled on the leg of one of the kitchen chairs. It scooted against the hardwood floor, but was protected by soft pads on the bottom of the dark wooden chair legs.

"Ready for school, sweety? My, doesn't your hair look just adorable?" her mother's back was to her, chopping a banana for Madison's oatmeal. She turned to help her daughter into the chair, ready for breakfast.

Julian followed behind her sister and sat down next to her. Because Julian was older, she was able to get on the chair easier.

Her brother would be asleep until noon. It was seven-thirty... far too early for any _sane _teenage boy to be awake.

Susan's husband was at work. He would be in Detroit, Michigan for two days at work. He went on long business trips every once and a while. More so now, because they needed to get some extra money in, to pay for the house. It was a sacrifice, but it would pay off later.

Two bowls of oatmeal and bananas were placed in front of both of the girls. The metallic chime of silverware hitting the dark-wood table filled the girl's ears.

As they ate breakfast, their mother prepared their backpacks. Lunch, new books, and everything else a kinder-gardener and a first grade girl would need. Madison's backpack was pink, and Julian's was a magenta. They were both two-strapped and hung on the backs of the girls. It was heavy, so her mother decided to drop them off at the school for the first day.

Madison finished her breakfast, brushed her teeth and slipped on her coat. She went to school earlier than her sister by about an hour.

It would only be a ten-minute drive, so Susan let her daughter stay home alone for that short time. If anything went terribly wrong, Julian could wake up her brother.

Her mother pressed the button to open up the garage while Madison loaded the car with her back-pack. The doors of the minivan opened, and sunlight made the exterior sparkle. Light flooded the previously dark garage as the door opened.

Soon, they were both on the road. Madison loved her mother very much, but didn't know much about her. Susan was her stepmother, and had only known her for entire life. This may seem like a long time, but she was only six, and only knew that she was her mommy. The original Fitzgeralds had divorced when Frankie was ten. Johnny, the father, had remarried when Frankie was thirteen. Neither of the girls had ever seen their birth mother, and if they did, they wouldn't have remembered her.

The mother and daughter arrived at the elementary school parking lot. The small building was laid by red bricks, and it was only one story. It was wide, though, stretching from the flagpole to the playground, which was about the length of six or seven cars. Madison caught a glimpse of the playground, and immediately realized that it was bigger than her old school's playground. That would be fun!

Following the concrete path, the pair sauntered up to the main doors. There would normally be flowers planted and the green grass, but it was October, and most things were dead and cold.

When momma pressed a button near the door and requested to be let in and stated their names and business, the doors unlocked with a soft 'click'.

There was green carpet on the ground, and it squished under Madison's Mary-Janes. The walls were white, but decorated with cork-boards and posters advertising current events at the school and cartoon characters.

Madison loved it.

Her mother led her to the main office where an old lady sat at the desk. She looked like an exhausted Mary Poppins, Madison thought. The lady smiled at the arriving couple, and hung up the phone she was holding to her ear.

"I assume you are the Fitzgeralds... welcome to Virgo Elementary!" she welcomed them with a fake cheerfulness, I fine sheen of smoker-voice overlapping her voice. Madison, of course, didn't notice that she was only faking the happiness, and smiled and waved back.

The secretary called Madison's mother up to the desk, and suggested Madison sit down in one of the chairs lining the wall. Madison did as she was told and sat in one of the rough seats of the office. She noticed that there was another little girl in the office, sitting across from her.

Madison smiled and waved to the girl who was reading a small book. "Where was her mommy," thought Madison.

The other little girl looked up from her large-worded book. She giggled and waved back. Madison stood once more and walked over to the girl, then plopped down in a chair next to her.

"Hi!" the young girl in jeans and a T-shirt greeted Madison.

"Hello" Madison was not known to be shy. Her sister was another story.

"I'm Jaquelin, who are you?" the other little girl, now deemed as Jaquelin, smiled wide.

"Madison" she responded.

The little girl showed Madison her book, and they kept busy by reading it. The book was from her classroom, and it's subject was Halloween. It didn't show it's origin or anything, but it told non-scary stories of ghosts and ghouls.

"Where do you think Halloween came from?" Madison inquired to the girl.

Jaquelin froze and her smile disappeared. "I don't know... my mom doesn't talk about it. I have a feeling it came from Michael Myers."

Madison stitched her eyebrows together. "Who is... 'Michael Myers'?"

Jaquelin snickered. "You don't know? Where do you live now, under a rock?"

Madison racked her brain to try and remember the name. A light-bulb struck, and she spoke: "Trendont."

Jaquelin nodded. "That explains why you don't know him. I live where he lived, Haddonfield, and he's our town's biggest fear."

Madison had never heard of Michael Myers. "Who was he, though? What did he do?"

"He killed his sister when he was only six years old. Then, he was sent to a crazy house, and kept there for twenty-one years." Jaquelin explained.

Madison remembered all the times her family refused to answer her questions about Halloween. Now, it took her new-found friend to explain something that she and her sister had always been wondering. Imagine how wonderful Julian would feel when Madison told her!

"And then what?" Madison's eyes were wide with both curiosity and fear.

"After he escaped, he returned to Haddonfield and started to hurt a lotta people. He got to the sheriff's daughter, even! He's still in our town, only to come out on Halloween night" Jaquelin froze after she saw Madison's terrorized face.

"Why don't the police catch him?" Madison squeaked out. Madison was always one for horror stories, but the ones she heard were usually goody-goody, where no one got hurt. "I'll never be scared", she always assured herself. She had never heard a story that sent a chill down her spine like the one that Jaquelin was telling; the story of Michael Myers.

"He can't die! Mr. Sheriff said that the police have tried to bring him in lotsa times... but they can't hurt him" Jaquelin continued.

Madison's mother intervened in the conversation between the two girls with a large stack of paper in her hand. The two girls smiled one last time and Madison and her mother headed out the door. The little girl gripped her mother's hand and they continued down the hallway.

Michael Myers was the only thing on Madison's mind now. Was that the big secret? What was so bad? It was very disgusting to think about him hurting his sister, but what that really enough to hide it from her every time she asked?

Madison arrived at the door to her room. It was wooden and rather large, but with all the colorful posters and welcoming letters spelling 'MRS. BRADE'S CLASS WELCOMES YOU!', it seemed impossible to be intimidated. There was a banner with a bunch of rainbow-assorted hand-prints on a white piece of paper hung above the door.

Nervousness and anxiety suddenly rushed over Madison. Before this moment, she had been quite eager to start school. Now, with all these scary thoughts filling her mind, she wanted to go back home. "What would they think of me? Am I that different? Would school be harder here? They've already started school, how far behind will I be?"

Nonetheless, Madison's mother opened the door, and the pair stepped inside.

Loomis hastily scratched off another day in his planner. Today was the 30th. "Another day down... one more to go before all hell breaks loose", Loomis thought to himself.

Loomis had studied the letters, to no avail. The one he had read before was the most recent one, and he would not receive another before next Monday.

He jumped at a sudden loud, unexpected chime. Loomis's hands dropped the pen he was holding and his eyes shot towards the door. Why he looked at the door, he didn't know. But, it was usually where people came in to attack him. He relaxed once he realized it was only his telephone.

"Yes?" Loomis hurried to pick up the phone. His voice was shaky to match his hands, giving a death-grip on the plastic phone handle.

Loomis was indeed waiting for a phone call. He hoped it was the Sheriff... waiting for some answers.

"Dr. Loomis?" A female voice responded. Her voice seemed calm and smooth, compared to his nervous and anxious one.

"This is he. Who is this?" It was definitely not the Sheriff, considering it was a woman's voice.

"Doesn't matter. Did you receive a strange letter recently?" he voice was still tenuto and nonchalant.

Loomis's wrinkled, worn face turned pale. His eyes flashed over to the manila folder, still splayed out on his desk.

"Who is this?" he quietly asked, skeptical, leaning on the side of his desk and crossing his ankles.

"Answer my question" her voice hardened.

"Yes I did" he sauntered towards the folder, uncrossing his ankles, and turned his head around to check the windows for anyone peering in. He felt like he was being watched. How else would anyone know of his letters?

"Do you have any idea what it is?" the woman returned to her previous state of voice before getting suddenly serious. It was slightly mocking.

Loomis hesitated. There were a lot of ideas. "I really don't know."

"How many have you received?"

"Around... five. Once a week for the last five weeks."

The woman sighed into the phone. "This is not good."

"What do you know about the letters?" Loomis urged.

"What the letters are, are warnings. They are telling you of several upcoming, and fatal events. You need to decipher them in order to prevent anyone from getting hurt. The more letters there are, the more catastrophes will erupt. If you look at each of the letters, it describes a disaster that has already happened. It usually happens a few days after the receiver has gotten the letter. The more recent the letter, the sooner the tragedy will come. "

"Can you help me with deciphering a letter?" Loomis instantly regretted asking this of the strange woman. But, she seemed to know a lot about the letters.

"Depends. What are you willing to do for me?" she sounded cocky.

"Depends. What do you want?" Loomis squinted and traced his fingers along the grooves of one letter's words etched in ink.

"Don't let the writer of the letters die. At all costs" she now sounded solemn.

"I don't know who that is" Loomis felt very stupid and left-out. She knew more than he did, and he hated that feeling.

"Yes you do. Think. It's in one of the letters..." she halted abruptly to cough a smokers-cough.

"Which one?" Loomis rushed. He needed this information... it is valuable.

"Eeehh..." she whined, "the one about a fire. Maybe the first or second one the sender sent you."

Loomis remembered that one. It was the easiest one to decipher, for it flat-out stated what was going to happen.

"I'll look at it..." he fumbled for a pencil and wrote on the top of the manila folder:

FIRE = NA ME

"What do you want me to help you with? Which letter?" the woman seemed to be from Illinois, for there was no noticeable accent she spoke with.

"The latest one" Loomis opened the folder and rustled through it to find the most up-to-date letter.

"How does it start? First line?"

Loomis found it and straightened it in his hand. The black ink was set-off by the bright, white, folded paper. "_Don't remember, always forget_."

"Line after that."

"_What happened?_"

"You need to forget what happened."

"Where? When?"

"Just read me the next few lines."

"_The dog sleeps at midnight o' one... he is alone at the house. Mask and all. I'll make sure he stays there._"

"Yep, this is the Michael Myers one. The author knows him and of all his plots. Michael is the dog, because it mentions a mask and 'midnight o' one'. This is the only time Michael Myers is ever vulnerable on the night of Halloween, because he is sleeping. The house is _not_, I repeat, _not_, the Myers House at 466 Lampkin Lane. It is at the author's house. This is where he resides every other day of the year, other than Halloween. The author will make Michael stay there for as long as the author can. Next line."

Loomis paused to jot down:

DOG= MYERS

HOUSE = AUTHOR'S HOUSE

MIDNIGHT O' ONE= MYERS IS ASLEEP AND VULNERABLE

"_Don't procrastinate... time is of the essence. I've been thrown into the line of fire... and you, Loomis, are the gunman. I will run. Don't let me get away._"

"Procrastinate is to avoid doing something. The author is saying not to avoid going to the house. Don't be afraid, the author states. 'I've been thrown into the line of fire', indicates that the author is part of the plot. Or, the author could be stuck in the middle of the plot by someone else, not my choice. 'And you, Loomis, are the gunman', means you are the turning point. You have the power to stop all of this. To stop the plot. 'I will run, don't let me get away', means that the author will be thinking that it is the right thing to do at the time. It's kind of like you telling someone to urge you to do something, no matter how much you deny it."

Loomis jotted down more notes:

LINE OF FIRE= PLOT

GUNMAN= MAN OF POWER/ME

DON'T LET GET AWAY= THINKING IT IS RIGHT/KEEP TRYING TO STOP AUTHOR

"How do I stop it?" Loomis interjected.

"Next. Line." She said sternly.

"_The dog will attack, and you can shoot him down. I'll lead him to the house, but not the house you are thinking of. My house. The house out of fifty two million in Illinois in which he is in. He's waiting, so am I._"

"You know the dog is Michael. You know the house is hers. By saying that you can shoot him down when he attacks, the author doesn't mean literally. The author is saying that he's going after something, and he will attack on Halloween. Anything to do with Michael Myers attacking anything, it's on Halloween. To bring him down, there has to be something you haven't tried yet. Something that the author knows about. Any weakness. Next line."

SHOOT DOWN= GET WITH WEAKNESS

ATTACKS= GOING AFTER SOMETHING

"_The ball bounces at five P.M. And don't miss it. It's a special date. You'll have to find the date. But you already know it. Time is limited before this date, then the dog will come out and chase the ball that has been bounced._" Loomis continued, eyes wide and fascinated at this new, sudden information.

"The ball is his weakness. You have to find it, get it, and use it at midnight o' one against Michael Myers to take him down. The actual word 'ball' could be a hint toward what the weakness is, or just a metaphor. The author will set the weakness out at exactly five P.M. On Halloween. You only have short amount of time to get this weakness, and after that, Michael will probably come after it. He's trying to rid the Earth of all his weaknesses. You'll have to fend him off until 12:01, then get him."

BALL= WEAKNESS/ METAPHOR

SHORT TIME TO GET WEAKNESS, THEN M.M WILL GO AFTER WEAKNESS

FIVE P.M.

"Next line."

"Wait, how do I know you're not lying to me? Who are you?" Loomis stopped, reality suddenly hitting him.

"Why would I call you, just to lie to you?" she sounded arrogant now.

"To throw me off track" Loomis thought it was a pretty good response.

"Why?"

"Because you may be on his side."

"Who is on his side?!"

"That author of these letters seems to be."

"The author is not on his side, per-say. She just knows him. He trusts the author to take care of him. The author is more afraid of him than gingerly towards him."

Loomis sighed. "How did all that start?"

"Next line. I don't have much time left."

Loomis hesitated. "What the heck..." Loomis figured. " _Let your nails scratch against the chalk-board... it is time to party. _That's the last line before the signature, '_I will be waiting_'."

"The author is saying that you should go with the flow and stay low until the big bang. Why she uses the chalk-board analogy is because the sound that it creates is not very pleasant. In this mission the author warns you a part of, no one will be nice to you. No one will work with you. That's all part of the author's orders. The party, of course, is the actual climax of the event. So, follow the author's instructions and do as you're told."

CHALK-BOARD= LAY LOW/ DO AS TOLD

PARTY= CLIMAX/ TRAGEDY

"If the author is helping Michael-" Loomis began.

"The author is not helping him. The author is forced to shelter him. He chose the author, the author did not chose him."

"I'm sorry. Anyway, if the author is with Michael, why would the person want to bring him down?" Loomis tapped the pencil against his desk and it made a soft 'tick-bump-tick-bump' noise.

"The author doesn't like being there. The person is tired of him, and wants him to be given what he deserves. If you ever meet the author, then the person will act like they are on his side. It's because the author is afraid Michael will hurt, or even, kill the person" the woman's voice was now sad and solemn. She and the author must be close.

Then, Loomis heard a faint noise from the other end of the line. It was like a ghostly cry, and Loomis thanked God for letting the woman be quiet while the cry erupted.

"I have to go, Loomis" the woman finally broke the silence.

Loomis was busy fumbling a pencil in his left hand. He was right-handed, and his writing was messy because of the use of his non-dominant hand.

"Wait-" Loomis started, but stopped when he hard a click, and a dial tone.

Loomis still held the phone, but wrote down what he heard in the background as another piece of information. He debated how to spell it, but went with:

CALLER= PERSEPHONE

Now, all he had to do was find out who all these people were, and find the missing pieces of the puzzle.

But not to worry, Loomis, the author will be there to help.

_ This one is quite a bit longer. Next chapter, since it's Halloween, all the action will go down. It'll certainly be a mad-dash for Loomis! _

_ Just curious, what do you guys think Michael's weakness may be? What physical object could bring Michael Myers down? Tell me in a comment =D I might include it in the story if it is better than the one I have planned._

_ Thank you for reading! Please review!_


	3. 1st Day, Seeing the Answers, and his POV

_**Forever Winged**_

_Smiley1Face23_

_**A Halloween Fanfiction**_

_**Chapter 3**_

_Hello people! You may have read my Edward Scissorhands or Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction. I'm glad! Now, I am starting a new venturing into a new unknown... the world known as __Halloween!__ This classic Halloween horror story was directed by John Carpenter and tells the chilling story of a psychotic serial killer, Michael Myers. I'm sure, because you are looking at the fanfiction for it, that you know the basic story line._

_Please comment! I won't beg for reviews, but it is wonderful to hear what you guys think!_

_

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_**Sorry for the wait! I was very lazy on writing this because I was too busy doing anything else! School, family, and trying to fix things with my friends took a lot out of my day. I wrote a little at a time every day, and by a little, I mean one sentence! But, during Spring Break, I had a lot of time to work on it. So, here it is!  
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The tables were plastic and brightly colored. The children were sitting at each little bench, hunching over to color the piece of paper in which they drew on. Laughs and idle chit-chat filled the room, creating a bustling atmosphere that even the teacher enjoyed.

Madison concluded after her mother left, with a hug, kiss and encouraging words, that she had not heard the conversation between her and Jaquelin. For some reason, she got the vibe that if her mother had heard, she would have gotten in trouble.

It was a few moments ago when the teacher, Mrs. Brades, introduced Madison to the class. The tall, middle-aged woman had directed the petite Madison to the front of the class, where she stood in front of the chalk board. Madison had said her name and 'hello', then the rest of the class responded with words of greetings.

Madison sat next to the only person she knew so far, Jaquelin. On the other side of Madison was a little boy. He had short black hair and dark, olive skin. White shirt, khaki pants and black shoes, he wore. The boy said no words. He only gazed nervously around the room. When Madison had inquired the boy for his name, he shook as if he were very cold, and returned to his short-stroke coloring.

"Don't mind him," Jaquelin had explained, "that's only Ambrose.." and returned to her coloring.

Madison couldn't keep her mind off of Ambrose, forcing the thought of Michael away. What made him the way he was, so nervous and quiet? Madison knew that everyone else in the class had acted so friendly towards her, except the boy who sat next to her. "Was it me? What did I say? What is wrong with me?" Madison thought to herself. She was overly-self-conscious.

If only she knew what Ambrose knew, then she would understand. She would see why his head was always lost in the dark clouds, especially around Halloween. Especially around Halloween. Halloween...

There was another man who always understood. He didn't understand much, but when he did, he understood it to a fuller extent of any man or woman on the Earth. Especially around Halloween. Halloween...

Then there was a woman. She understood it all, because she was the main aspect in what was needed to be understood. Especially around Halloween. Halloween...

Jaquelin capped her green marker, her fingers riddled with ink that somehow ended up rubbing against her skin. Jaquelin was coloring a garden like the one in her grandmother's backyard.

Madison reached for the yellow marker in the center of the table. Madison's fingers were instead met by another, softer, object. Her eyes zoomed towards the new object, then the owner.

Ambrose gasped a high-pitch scream and jumped. He pulled back his hand in a pained lurch, bouncing out of his chair and landing on his feet. Everyone turned to stare at him as he stared down at Madison with wide, dark eyes. His eyelashes raised to his brow-bone and cast a dark shadow against his cheekbone. His fingers curled in a painful cringe.

"What..." Madison looked up at Ambrose with fearful, curious eyes.

Seeing that everyone was staring at him, including the teacher, Ambrose's eyes left Madison's. The room went dead-silent. He darted awkwardly towards the door, opening it and almost slamming it behind him.

Everyone went back to their work except for Madison and Jaquelin. Madison, mouth agate, slowly turned towards Jaquelin, who looked equally as shocked.

"What was that all about?" Madison spoke slowly, the chit-chat sounds of the room starting to come back.

"I told you... just ignore him. He's a freak..." Jaquelin returned to her coloring as if nothing had happened.

"Was it me?" Madison found it much harder to let go of the subject.

"Probably not. He gets real jumpy around Halloween. Maybe he's just afraid of Michael Myers, like the rest of us."

"Is there anything else I don't know about Michael...?" Madison, uncomfortably, returned to her flower on the sheet of paper in front of her.

"I've never even seen him, Maddy..." Jaquelin was quick to snap back, "and no one ever talks about him. If you really want to know like, A LOT about this guy, you should ask George, over there. He doesn't care if people know he talks about 'him', because he lives close to 'his' house" She pointed to a small blonde boy on the edge of the room. He was sitting at another table with only one other person.

"We can't get up now..." Madison, still traumatized from the event, said softly and slowly to Jaquelin. Her voice was so quiet, in fact, one might see it as Madison mumbling to herself.

Everyone continued to their work as the teacher stepped outside to console Ambrose.

Madison saw this as an opportunity to sneak her entrance to George. Although she might be risking getting on the teacher's bad side on the first day, she rose from her chair. Her curiosity was endeavored enough to chance getting in trouble.

George had looked up when Madison sat back down next to him. His smile that was on his face after he had been laughing with him friends dissipated.

"Hi..." Madison looked at him directly, smiling wide, "I hear you know a lot about Michael Myers."

George's smile was now completely gone. "Myers? Yeah."

George was a very quiet boy, much like Madison's sister. But, when someone talked to him first and requested for information, he was very willing to share what he knew. For a little boy, he knew a lot more than what was previously predicted.

"Can you tell me everything?" Madison shoved all her fear away.

"Hey, girl, you might not wanna be asking things so out-in-the-open like that around these parts. Someone will tell you something other than the story" the little boy sitting across from Madison glared and snapped. This little boy was named Francis. He was George's best friend, but Madison didn't know that.

"What would they say?" Madison didn't exactly get the hint that Francis was sending.

"A whole lotta lip!" the boy sitting across from her rolled his eyes and went back to his coloring.

"Ignore him. As fun as he is, he can be a real _jerk_" George emphasized the last word so that Francis could hear.

Madison nodded quickly as George stared at her. It was awkward how he looked at her.

"You're the new girl... how do you know about Michael Myers?" he then asked, breaking the silence.

"My new friend told me... Jaquelin..." both of the kids' eyes trailed over to Jaquelin, who now chatted with some other girl that Madison did not know.

"Figures... she lives next to the Myers house like me, just in the other side. She just doesn't like to talk about it much" George picked up a marker, and began to color as he spoke.

"What's the 'Myers house'?" Madison also grabbed a new sheet of paper and began to scribble on it with pink marker, her intentions set on learning about Michael.

"Where Michael lived. Lotsa people think he still lives there, but no one knows."

Madison pondered this. "Where is it?"

"Something like... 446 Lampkin Lane. One of the most famous addresses in Haddonfield."

Madison nodded. "Why doesn't anyone like him? Cuz he hurts lotsa people?"

"More than hurts, he kills 'em."

Madison's stomach flipped again. More than when she heard Michael had killed his sister.

"Why?" she squeaked out.

George shrugged and capped his marker. "No one really knows."

It was silence before Madison could think of any questions to ask George.

"Francis was right, though. You might not want to talk about it to anyone. My mom doesn't know I know anything... if she found out, she'd be really angry. Everyone is supposed to forget him..."

"Why?" Madison asked.

"You say that a lot. Anyway, because it's not like anyone can take him down. He's a tough guy! Stayed alive even after like, six gun-shots! He's a shame to Haddonfield, ruining our homey feel and turning this place into a bloodbath" George smiled a cocky smile.

Madison did not know that this was a lot of gunshots. She almost asked 'so what', but got the hint that this was a pretty impossible amount.

How George knew this vocabulary was unknown, but Madison didn't understand much of it. What was a 'bloodbath'?

The teacher sauntered into the room. She stood by Madison's chair and looked around, confused, for Madison.

Madison sprung from her seat, the metal of the chair squeaking against the hard floors. The teacher didn't seem to mind that Madison had moved, as long as she knew where she was.

The older woman wearing a burnt-orange dress kneeled down next to Madison who now sat in her original chair. "Ambrose will come back in and apologize once he is ready'" she whispered in the little girl's ear.

Madison nodded and started yet another picture. Her eyes caught with George, who was staring at her, and her mind yet again drifted to the mysterious murderer who plagued Haddonfield.

Soon, the end of the school-day came. Madison's mother picked her up from school, the American flag flying on a pole in the wind. Ambrose never came back in and apologized. She saw his assumed-to-be mother pull up in her black car and pick him up from school earlier that day.

"Mommy!" Madison ran up to her mom, who was on one knee, and wrapped her arms around her.

"How was school today, honey?" her mother returned her hug gratefully with a tight squeeze.

"It was great! I met lots of new friends..." Madison turned her head from her mother's shoulder to face Jaquelin. The other toddler was also hugging her mother, but her father was right next to her.

A feeling that Madison could not place rushed over her. Although her own father would be home in two weeks from Wisconsin, Madison secretly wished her dad was here _now._ Her smile turned to a frown, her bright eyes suddenly turning dull. A knot was tied in her stomach, making it uncomfortable to even look at Jaquelin. "What was this feeling?" Madison asked herself inside her mind.

"Who is that, Madison? A new friend?" Madison's mother stood now, along with Jaquelin's mom. Her father was already standing.

The mysterious feeling began to fade away as Madison remembered the fond things about Jaquelin. Other than George and his piers, Jaquelin was the only person to say a non-forced 'hello'. What I mean by 'forced hello' is how the other members of the class were forced by the teacher to say hello. It was when Mrs. Brades introduced her, and everyone said in a monotone voice 'hello, Madison'.

"Yeah, she's one of my new friends!" Madison leaped out of her mother's arms and galloped towards Jaquelin and her family. Madison's mother followed suit, smiling and trying to catch up.

"Jaquelin!" Madison approached her new buddy who hugged her in return. While the children started to converse again, the parents made small talk. Although none of them knew each other very well, the adults took a friendly liking to one another. They shook hands and laughed at whatever they were talking about. The girls could care less, though, because who cares what adults talk about? **(A/N: In a little girl's point of view, of course)**

After about ten minutes, when the rest of the school had cleared out, Jaquelin's mom and dad had approached Madison and their daughter with an inquiry.

"By the way, Jaquelin," her mother turned to her daughter, "I'm sorry I had to leave early from the office today, you know how demanding Dr. Drew can get when you have an appointment with him. How was helping the office ladies?"

Jaquelin rebutted the question with a short description of what she did to help the ladies before school. She said she finished early and got to sit in the office before school started.

That's why Jaquelin was just sitting in the office reading, her mother at a doctor's appointment.

"How would you girls like to go trick or treating together tomorrow? I can come with you," the mother's voice was coated with a sugar-sweet falseness that somehow children could not detect.

The girls more than obliged to the offer. They jumped up and down and screeched excitedly. Trick or treating with a friend! Candy and buddies! Madison was sure it would be the funnest evening she would ever have, considering this was the first time she went trick-or-treating with a friend.

One thing was for sure, Madison couldn't wait to go to Haddonfield and trick or treat with her new-found ally!

Loomis typed on his desktop computer. His office phone was connected to the computer, so if he were to gather important information, he could reevaluate it. Every phone call from the office phone was recorded on the P.C. Luckily, the mysterious caller dialed on said phone. The phone call traced back to a phone booth in Chicago. The Loop, actually. One of the busiest locations in all of Illinois, and impossible to pinpoint exactly who was calling, for thousands of people used this phone every day.

Loomis typed down his notes in an organized fashion on his computer for back-up. After he was finished, he re-listened to all the areas in which he took notes on. Especially the end, in which he heard the name 'Persephone'. There was a short creak, much like a door, that he had not heard before, and a soft 'click' before someone said the name. It was stated in an alarming tone, as if the voice was surprised. The gender of the voice was unknown, for it was a middle-way between deep and high-pitched voice. It was definitely not clear, so it must have been far away from the receiver of the phone.

Was this the Author? The writer of the mysterious letters? Was it the same as the caller?

Loomis was nervous as to how he was going to handle this. Tomorrow, Halloween, there would be something happening at five o'clock to lead him to some weakness.

Wait.

Five o'clock tomorrow...

The meeting!

Loomis felt another rush of worry over him. How would the Author guide him to Michael's weakness if he is in a meeting? Loomis had planned the meeting for Halloween so he could protect himself against the masked murderer, for the killer barely entered public places in any circumstance in any evening. So, if Loomis was in an office building, he would be much more protected against him. Although in the past Loomis had gone after him, hiding out at his house and shooting at him, Loomis had been ordered by the chief of Police to stay out of it. Loomis was forced to abide, or be fired.

It was too late to cancel the meeting, for it was a day away. Plus, the leader of the meeting was Mr. Brown, one of the biggest executives of the police department. If you back out on a meeting with him, you're on his bad side. Let's just say, you don't WANT to be on his bad side if you value your sanity.

The meeting was on the North Side of Haddonfield, in an office building in town. It was near Haddonfield Memorial Park, where many children, including Michael, used to play at. Now, the park was deserted and rusting away. The town board was working with the police department to take down the park's recreational equipment, for it was broken and old. Quite the potential danger to children. Loomis would take a taxi downtown, go to the meeting until it was safe and Michael had retreated, then ride home in a taxi, hoping he doesn't die.

The Author may or may not know that he is in the meeting. "How would they know?" Loomis asked himself out loud.

He would just have to trust that the Author would watch out for him. Help him. Loomis needed more help from this mysterious person than he would like, but it was what it was.

Now, he needed to focus on his notes. The caller, which was at this time labeled 'Persephone', told him that the name of the Author was in a letter. He reached over to the far side of his desk and grabbed the folder in which he took his make-shift notes on.

FIRE = NA ME

This was the first one he saw. He remembered that the 'fire' related to the letter he received about a fire disaster. This was where Persephone promised Loomis would find the name of the author.

Loomis reached into the manila folder and flipped the organization tabs to the date of 9/1/78, the fire letter. Pulling out the paper, he was careful not to disturb any of the other letters in the folder.

Placing the paper on the desk, he also slipped on a pair of reading glasses, balancing them on the bridge of his crooked nose. He began to read, playing extra attention to any mention of a name. After the first paragraph, there was absolutely no mention of any proper noun. It wasn't until the second paragraph when there were a few clues:

_They scream in peril, I tell you. It was in the nature of Aceso to help them. I just couldn't though. I could not. It was started by violence, this fire, in a place you would hope no one to get hurt. Scary as it was, you pushed through being in a fire, Loomis. I don't know how, but I guess I was watching over you too at that moment. Healing powers are not in my nature but in those who are similar to me in a way that is obvious to even you. All you have to do is look, and remember how desperate people are for help when stuck in the hands of something like the Boogeyman._

_ I'm still waiting._

That was the final paragraph. The only option of a name... would be this 'Aceso'. What kind of name is that? Loomis had never heard of anything in that sort. It sounded quite exotic.

Loomis decided to go to his computer for help. Was it possible that 'Aceso' was a name? Loomis slipped the paper back into the manila folder. When in doubt, go to the internet.

He typed in 'Aceso' in the search engine bar. After pressing enter, he winced to see that there were over four billion websites that linked back to the word or, hopefully, name he had typed.

Well, you have to start somewhere. Loomis dragged his worn-with-age hand over the mouse on his desk and pressed down his index finger on the first link.

A colorful page popped up when he examined it. On the top, it read:

GREEK GODS AND GODDESES AND THEIR ABILITIES

"Greek Gods and goddesses?" Loomis thought out loud, "what do Greek Gods have to do with this?" His pondering over the seemingly nonsense page was put to a halt after he figured that if he typed in the name, it had to do something with the page.

It was in alphabetical order, all the names. He started at 'A' and moved his way down. 'AA'... 'AB'... 'AC'. There! Loomis had found 'Aceso'! He checked the spelling compared to the letter and everything. It was it. He read the title next to the name: 'Goddess of Healing'.

Loomis stopped in his tracks. How would a Goddess of healing relate to the death powerhouse known as Michael Myers? Loomis snapped out of his trance and reached for a pen out of his pencil cup, now on the far right side of his desk. He dragged the manila folder back towards him with his fingertips and wrote next to the name note: ACESO, GODDESS OF HEALING

He then remembered the letter. Maybe how this related back to Greek mythology would be hidden in the letter. But how could he decipher it without Perseph-

Persephone! Loomis remembered that name now... and he scrolled down to 'P'. 'PA'... Loomis ignored the rest... 'PE'! He had found the distinct name of 'Persephone' on that very list, labeled as 'The wife of Hades. Taken down to the Underworld by force... for the full story click here.' Loomis didn't feel like reading the full story of Greek Persephone, but only wanted to know how it related to Caller Persephone.

Back to the letter. The more you read, the more answers you can receive! He reached into the folder and whipped the letter back out, not even caring for it's or the other letters' safety.

He decided to try and mimic Persephone as much as he could, by breaking down each sentence.

_They scream in peril, I tell you. It was in the nature of Aceso to help them. I just couldn't though. I could not._

"If Aceso was the Goddess of healing, then it would of course be in her nature to try and heal. Loomis knew that there was no such things as magic healing powers, if there were he would never be in this Myers mess, so the reason she could not help them was because she did not have said powers."

_It was started by violence, this fire, in a place you would hope no one to get hurt. Scary as it was, you pushed through being in a fire, Loomis. I don't know how, but I guess I was watching over you too at that moment._

_ "_The fire was stared by violence... I don't know what that would mean. The fire she is referring to must be the one at Haddonfield hospital." Laurie had shot Michael in the eyes, and while he was distracted, Loomis let out a flammable gas and lit his lighter. How Michael had survived the major explosion was a mystery... but how Loomis had survived was a downright miracle. Loomis had found a small hole covered by two-by-fours on the floor where there used to be a drain, and he had clawed away at the weak wood covering the opening to crawl out. "This Aceso was 'watching over me' even then? How long has this been going on?"

_Healing powers are not in my nature but in those who are similar to me in a way that is obvious to even you. All you have to do is look, and remember how desperate people are for help when stuck in the hands of something like the Boogeyman._

"Ah, so this confirms my idea of her not having magic powers," Loomis chuckled darkly to himself. "How is the similarity to Greek Aceso and Author Aceso obv- oh." It then seemed so obvious, Loomis cursed himself for not seeing it before even beginning that statement. "The name, of course... I guess she knew I was desperate for help at the Haddonfield hospital... and to relate her words to my feelings. Michael's nickname is obviously the Boogeyman, everyone in Haddonfield knew that. So, to see the major similarity between this Aceso and the Goddess, it is that she likes to help people! Likes to heal!"

Loomis was typing all of this down into his computer so he wouldn't forget it.

Good! The Author's name was Aceso, and the caller's name was Persephone! But how are these two related? It seemed that every step Loomis took towards solving the letters, he would take two steps back. It was aggravating!

The doctor ignored his bothersome anger, and clicked out of his word processor. He took off his glasses and rubbed his temples with one hand as he set the glasses on the desk with the other.

Tomorrow was Halloween. Michael would be here soon and all of Haddonfield would be in chaos. No one ever listened to Loomis. No, it would be tomorrow that would make the others in the police department believe. "Because tomorrow," Loomis thought to himself, "would be a murder spree that would make me have to forget all other murders." It would have to be different, so grotesque and odd that all other clues wouldn't contribute to solving this one.

Loomis knew it. The author, Aceso, knew it. The caller, Persephone, knew it. The only people that needed to know now was the residents of Haddonfield, and the police department.

Doop.

Doop.

Deep!

Doop!

The man heard the strange noise, but didn't know what it was. It happened every time he received food. He opened his weary eyes, his hair still hanging in front of his face. His hands were suspended above him, shackled to the concrete wall along with his ankles. You could not break out of his bondage here in this strange place, until it was his time. He lifted his head slightly that had been hanging down as he slept. This man couldn't sleep laying down. It was not his way of doing things, nor his other followers.

The hooded boy walked down the rickety stairs, two feet on each stair as he descended into the darkness, for his legs were too short for the steep stairs. At the top of the staircase the door closed creating a soft 'click', shutting off the little ray of light that had opened up, allowing any visibility at all to dissipate. In his little arms was a tray of food, consisting of chicken and water. It was too dark to see neither the man's or the boy's face, but a blinking red light shone through the darkness. This light was attached to the stairs, giving an alarm to every room in the house above the room in which the man was held captive in. This alarms purpose was to notify the master of the house that there was pressure on the stairs, going after the man. It would be fatal if anyone other than the owners and caretakers of the house would have come down to the basement. It would be even more fatal if the man attempted to escape. Thankfully, the boy was a caretakers of the home, and the man had been grateful enough to not try and escape.

The man could sense the boys energy and lifted his head further. The boy's face was covered by the black robe that also covered his body. Visibility wouldn't even be possible, for it was so black. The darkness was so thick, it was like the air that you breathed and the sounds that you heard.

This was how the man knew things were there. He was 'programmed' to feel things... people's feelings. Energy. This was a gift, more like a curse to most, called 'Aura Detection'. It is only given to the highest of the status quo among the members. This man could sense the energy of any person from many miles away. Over large distances of water. Over tall mountains. Through walls. Piercing through fire and snow. No kind of technology could block his ability from working. It was more powerful and pronounced than any laser or electrical signal, and this worked against those who were not the man.

A sharp intake of breath was the only sound in this void of shadow and white noise. The little boy, no older than five, knelt down to the man's ankle shackles and loosened them. The adult man knelt down on his bare knees as the child put the tray of food in front of him. The arm shackles were released, allowing the man to move his arms.

As the boy tried to return to his normal home, the man grabbed the boy's small ankle and squeezed it tightly. The boy could not move. His face turned white and his eyes widened, but this was not visible in the anti-light known as the basement. He tried to pull away, but this only caused the boy pain in his ankle. It was useless trying to escape the clutches of this man, for his strength was completely overpowering to yours. It was like a butterfly trying to fly away when an alligator has its wing in its mouth. Completely and utterly useless to try and do anything, and your only hope was that you were finished off quick, so you didn't have to suffer and be drenched in your own crimson pain.

It was different, though, as the boy soon discovered. The man's giant thumb rubbed against the boy's ankle gently for a short moment, then released him. You could hear the sigh from the boy, and the shuffling he made as he started towards the stairs.

"You're welcome..." his tiny voice squeaked through the utter black silence of the basement, in response to the man's silent 'thank you'.

The boy's mind kicked back in, and his little legs sprinted towards the door. This time, there was one foot on each stair, rushing to get away. The boy knew that the man touched him to be... kind, if that was possible, but it still sent chills down his spine to know that the man's fingerprints were on him. It could have been those very fingerprints that would connect this man to his murder. His body could be found in his own room, dead. Murdered from the man. That man could just grab his ankle and with a flick of the wrist, his foot would be torn off. But it was not a violent gesture that the man had done, it was one of appreciation.

Soon the boy's hand was pushing the door shut behind him as he returned to his normal living quarters. He flung off his robe and opened the closet door that was adjacent to the basement door. He threw the robe inside the small closet in a heap of cloth. The boy didn't see it land before he shut the door in haste.

His mother was in the kitchen behind him. She was cleaning up after preparing the man's meal. "If he isn't somewhat full after eating an entire chicken, that man is going to put on at least one hundred pounds..." the mother stated with a chuckle. Both the boy and the mother knew that the man could not gain weight even if he tried. That was part of his gifts, given to him by his own master.

The boy approached his mother and grabbed a rag. He wet it and began to wipe down the counter.

It was amusing to see how normal the house looked on the top. Every other family had this style in their homes at the time. Every other house had shag carpeting and yellow cupboards. The black-and-white television sat in the living room inside of it's cabinet, visible from the kitchen table. His couches were covered in just as much plastic. Cowboys decorated the boy's room, a Southwestern feel warming his heart every time he played in there.

But no other house in Haddonfield held what the house at 470 Lampkin Lane had. At least, not in their basements. This was because the peculiar object's normal residence was a few doors down at 466 Lampkin Lane.

"Thank you so much, Ambrose..." Ambrose's mother imparted on him, "you're so helpful to me."

Ambrose, the little boy not older than five, smiled and wring out the rag. He remembered the man's thanks downstairs moments ago, and knew he was probably done with his meal by now.

"We're going to have to at least _try _to stop him..." Ambrose spoke up as he remembered the man.

His mother stopped cleaning. "We... can't... Ambrose. We can keep him chained up, but you know he'll justbreak through them tomorrow. His strength hitches up a thousand notches on Halloween. If we start to stop him, we'll get very, very hurt. I just won't let that happen to you."

Ambrose had heard this a million times before. He still thought there was something other than the chains, _anything _ that could help stall him. Tell people to get help.

"I know..." he slugged off, "I gave him the food, it's your turn to go fix him..."

The mother sighed. "I know..." she whined in the same tone that her son just did. She started towards the closet and the basement door, descending down the three stairs leading from the kitchen to the television room.

Ambrose plopped down on the couch and laid down. As he reached for a drawer on the coffee table to open it and find a magazine, he caught sight of his hand. He pulled it towards him slowly and his palm began to shake. He remembered when he touched that girl... a shock rolled through him. It wasn't painful , it was just a warning sign. He wouldn't tell his mother, she was worried enough. She was killing herself, trying to make him happy, as if it would make him not escape. Like it would make him reconsider, make him think, "hhhmm... this nice lady gave me food, I think I won't go after people and try to kill them." It was silly, but he wouldn't tell his mom otherwise.

This warning signal was to let him know someone was wondering. Someone was wondering about the man in the basement. It was almost a law in Haddonfield to not bring up his name, to try and forget about him. Ambrose became very scared around Halloween. He knew what was coming... he knew that Michael would destroy the chains and handcuffs on Halloween. Ambrose also hated being around people whenever Halloween rolled around, because _every. Single. Person. _that he touched, whether on accident of on purpose, zapped him. It got annoying and it eventually started to hurt. But the blonde girl was the first on he had touched, and it scared him. He had been very good at not touching anyone this time of year.

His mother re-appeared with the tray and an empty glass in her arms. There were no bones or a carcass left from the chicken. There never was when the man downstairs got a hold of food.

Soon the tray was in the dishwasher and Ambrose's mother returned to the television room. Ambrose moved over so she could sit down. He noticed her frayed, graying hair that only came around during Halloween. She constantly wore sweat pants and a T-shirt, mainly because the man downstairs didn't care what she looked like. Plus, the only other person that entered the house at this time was the food lady, and she only came once a week to bring food. Ambrose's mother didn't leave the house the week of and the week after Halloween. She was too busy feeding and caring for the man downstairs.

Ambrose liked the food lady. She was nice and younger than his mom. Whenever she came over to bring food because his mother couldn't shop, she always brought him some sort of toy. One day, she brought what was now his favorite toy, a plastic horse whose legs were hinged at the joints. He really liked the food lady.

His mother sighed. "Tomorrow, Persephone will be coming over to help us. She'll be bringing a lot of food... will you help me prepare it for him?" she smiled.

Ambrose nodded and smiled, even though he knew it wouldn't prevent the man from doing whatever he wanted to.

Trust me, when the man wanted to do what he wanted to do, he would do it to his fullest passion and extent.

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**Tomorrow is Halloween! Everything will be answered and things will unravel.**

**I have something to ask of you, the readers :)! I want you to comment with something that you are wondering about in the story. Like, a question that has not been answered. I want to know what questions, other than the ones I've already marked down, you are all wondering about. Thank you!**

**Please review! It really means a lot when I get even _bad _reviews. At least I know someone is reading!  
**


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